Rusger Oneshots

One Sick Commie (part 2.)

(I spent way too long being confused about grilled cheeses and tomato soup-) 

(Y'all bETTeR appreciate the time I took to do flipping RESEARCH about toasted cheese bread and red fruit liquid)

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Germany welded a spatula in one hand, holding his phone against his ear with his shoulder. The low dialing beeps from his phone were soon drowned out by the sound of oil sizzling on the pan.

"Hei? Finland speaking." 

"Finnland? It's Germany." He said quickly, walking a few steps away from the stove.

"Saska? Are you okay? Its already 11am-"

"Ja I'm fine. Listen, could you tell EU that I will be working from home today?"

"...Sure! M-may I ask why?" 

"Oh, Russia got sick. I have to take care of him." Germany said, flipping the bread over on the pan to let the other side cook. 

"Oh, I... hope he gets better soon-" The other end of the call got quiet. "Umm... if you want, I could help you some of your work. I have some free time after lunch and I could help you with some of the documents-"

"Really? I can't thank you enough Finnland!!" Germany beamed, clutching the phone with his hand now.

"Heh...don't mention it Saska." He said shyly, a red blush going unseen through the phone call. "I have to go now, EU's meeting is starting."

"Alright, thank you so much Finnland, tschüss!!" 

"Bye Saska~"

Germany hummed as he hung up the phone, and set it aside. The face-up side of the sandwich was a decent golden brown, and the chess curling downwards at the corners, melting slowly. 

He looked over to his left where a medium sized pot of tomato soup was shimmering, and a bigger pot of Solyanka boiling on the stove above it. It was Russia's recipe, and he just hoped he had everything right. The part where the recipe requested 'A glass of pickle juice' was the most absurd thing he had ever seen.

But he was confident about the tomato soup. That one was his own recipe, one that he used to eat as a sick kid himself along with the grilled cheese he was making.  Germany let out a relaxed sigh, and set down the spatula.

"Ngh..." A raspy voice groaned from behind him, and then two arms wrapped around his body from under his arms. "Russland!!" Germany said in surprise as the larger country buried his face into his shoulder. "What are you doing here, you sick douche." He giggled.

"Lookin' for you-" He mumbled, hugging him tighter. He had groggily awaken to a empty bed, feeling distinctively betrayed, and decided against his body's wishes to go find his boyfriend. A headache still settled painfully in his skull, and he groaned again.

Germany smiled, and patted his arm that was wrapped around his midsection, stepping away from the stove. "Come on, lets sit down." He led Russia to the table, and gently easing him on to his chair, unwrapping his arms from his body,

"Noo..." Russia slurred, making grabby hands as he was nudged away. He wanted to cuddle and get attention through this miserable miserable time. 

"Russland-" Germany chided lightly, grinning at his boyfriend's clingy behaviour. His eyes were closed, face flushed and neck covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Pressing his palm to his forehead, Germany still felt it was too hot, but slightly less than yesterday. He got him a glass of water quickly.